


Cry

by Thewhiteunicorn



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewhiteunicorn/pseuds/Thewhiteunicorn
Summary: Dean Winchester is in a sick broken state. He is struggling with the concept of growing older and the changes that come with it. The stresses of being ill and the limitations that come with it eventually break the hunters moral.





	Cry

**Author's Note:**

> a loose Destiel fic based around personal life experiences

Dean Winchester was miserable. He’d been sick for over week now and going on day three of being stuck in bed . He felt angry and betrayed by his body, giving up on him over a simple cold. He felt bitter about being forty now and missed the days when he was younger. When he could jump from hunt to hunt, salt and burn in the rain, and just keep on rollin. He never thought he would live this long, and in a way he hadn’t. He had just been lucky, more or less.  
He never thought he would have to contend with the facts of getting “old”. Over the last few years he started noticing he just didn’t bounce back like he used to, but that didn’t stop him or slow him down. At least he thought it wouldn’t. Now here he was, Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man, the man who has killed some of the most evil things ever created, now held hostage by a cough the just won’t quit and the sinus infection from Hell itself. He is almost positive it isn’t even a real sinus infection, but some form of demon.

3 days earlier

He had tried to hide the building illness for a few days, the tingling in his nose easy enough to ignore. He could could feel it coming on, but he could hold it off and fight it back. It wasn't long though that he was clearing his throat and swallowing back drainage from his sinuses. The cough was the real kicker though, he just could not hide it. After Sam caught him more than a few times bent over and out of breath after a coughing fit he would not take no for an answer. So Dean finally relented and begrudgingly went to the doctor’s office with Sam in tow, who did not trust that Dean would actually go if not chaperoned. Dean checked himself in at the front desk, glaring at Sam as he watched from over Dean’s shoulder. He managed to keep up a good front up while checking in, still holding back and hiding the majority of his symptoms. He ignored Sam’s scowling “Bitch face” as they went to find seats in the waiting room.  
While in the waiting room though, Dean started to really not feel so hot. He tried to keep up his facade as best he could, but he could feel a heavy fatigue breathing down his neck. Try as he might, he couldn’t hold it anymore. The dam within Dean holding him up and his symptoms back, completely collapsed, flooding Dean with everything he had been holding back. And it hit Dean hard. Sam sat beside Dean, silently observing his older brother’s quickly fading facade. Dean was pale with bags under his eyes and he was beginning to slouch in his seat. Sam watched as Dean’s eyelids fluttered, slowly closing before snapping back open. His chin started to dip as exhaustion grabbed a firmer hold of him. For a few moments Dean was dozing in the waiting room chair and Sam thought he would sleep until they called his name, but that thought was quickly interrupted by a series of deep barking coughs that jolted Dean awake as he quickly double over, coughing into the crook of his arm. Sam attempted to comfort his ailing brother as best he could, gently rubbing slow circles on Deans back. He’s feels a gentle touch on his shoulder and turns to see a small blonde nurse smiling sadly at him while holding out a surgical mask. Understanding, Sam takes the mask and hands it to Dean, who looks at it glumly before putting it on. Dean feel so defeated and worn out by this point, he’s given up and doesn’t even bother trying to hide it anymore. He sighs, coughing a few more times, then leans up against the big bulk that is his baby brother. He’s sick, feels like garbage and has given up trying to pretend anymore. He has thrown in the towel.

After several painful coughing fits and a three hour wait, they finally call his name. Hauling himself up and out of the chair, Dean slowly follows Sam to the examination room. His nurse was a dark eyed beautiful brunette who cooed over Dean throughout his entire initial examination, but got zero response from Dean. Sam noticed it all and his growing concern spiked at his brother’s lack of response to the attractive woman’s attention. After she left with promise of the doctor coming soon Sam persuaded Dean to lay down on the examination table, which was easier than he expected. Within moments Dean was snoring heavily, Sam’s concern peaked again. After about an hour there was a soft knock on the door. Sam’s gaze quickly shifted to Dean who did not even stir at the sound. Not wanting to risk waking him just yet, Sam got up and open the door to the Doctor, index finger to his lips. Stepping into the room and glancing around the large man, the older woman quickly understood and smiled gently. Taking a seat at the desk she jotted down some quick notes before quietly asking Sam some questions. They talked back and forth for a few more minutes before she asked Sam to wake Dean. Rising from his chair Sam attempted to gently rouse the sleeping man, well knowing how “fun” Dean could be when getting woken up. Luck was on Sam’s side today and after a few attempts he woke up, complacent and quiet. Dean blinked groggily and wiped his hands across his face, trying to clear the fog from his brain that was building right along side the fire in his sinuses and growing tickle in his chest. He felt drained, he felt heavy, and his whole face hurt. Sam helped him sit up and patted him a few times on the shoulder before retaking his seat and letting the doctor take over. Turning towards the doctor Dean didn’t attempting his usual charming smile, he just sat there, feeling pitiful. She talked softly and gently to him as she began her examination. She waited patiently after asking him to lift his shirt, allowing him a bit more extra time as he willed his lead filled limbs to work. He first flinched at her touch, expecting ice cold doctors hands, but slowly relaxed into her soft warm hands.The few questions she asked him he answered in short responses and a ever thickening congested voice. Sam cringed at the change, that was not what Dean sounded like when they left the bunker this morning. After listening to his lungs she moved on to his worsening sinus. She gently removed his surgical mask and ran her fingers across his cheeks and forehead. Dean flinched and pulled back a bit when her hands exerted any pressure onto his sinuses. She frowned at this as she continued on with her examination. She noted his responses and discomfort, suggesting that a nasal swab test would be necessary. At hearing this Sam expected a fight, but glanced over at a very defeated Dean,nodding wearily in acceptance. Sam was really starting to feel bad for his brother, he had dealt with his brother in a large variety of medical situations and had never really seen Dean so compliant before. Dean was clearly just feeling awful. Closing up her examination the doctor replace the mask and told Dean he could lay back down if he wished. Dean quickly did and was again asleep in minutes. 

She spoke with Sam briefly on her thoughts of Dean’s condition and let him know she was gonna run the tests on the swab right away, but it would take about another hour. Sam was fine with that since he seemed like Dean needed the rest anyway. He thanked her as she left and draped his jacket over his sick brother’s sleeping form before trying to get comfortable in the stiff chair. Two hours later with Dean still passed out cold the nurse came back in with the results from his swab test. She told Sam that Dean was the lucky winner of a nasty viral sinus infection and Bronchitis as well. She handed him a few prescriptions, but explained none were for any antibiotics. There was a prescription for Codeine cough syrup for Sam to get today and prescriptions for an inhaler and nebulizer if his cough gets worse. Dean would have to beat this the old fashion way, lots of rest and fluids. The doctor had “jokely” written out a prescription for three days of bedrest, but Sam took that one as well, thinking if needed he might be able to convince Dean it was real. Looking through the the prescriptions Sam noted he should pick up a few other things for Dean’s comfort and recovery as well. So he decided he should get Dean home first and use that bedrest prescription while Dean was still easy to work with. Then he could go out and get all the needed supplies. Thanking the nurse, he again roused his big brother and helped lead him out to his car. Guiding him by his shoulder, Sam steered Dean towards the backseat of his beloved Baby. Stopping for a moment Sam thought that this was where Dean would draw the line and he prepared himself for an argument. But Dean just stood there, looking dazed,his eyes unfocused, until he lurched forward into several deep, forceful sneezes. Bracing one hand against the Impala he waited out the painful onslaught. Once it passed he sniffled deeply from behind the mask, bleary eyes red and tired, and slowly climbed into the back of his car and went to sleep. Sam shut the door behind him, got into the front seat, turned the keys and popped in one of his brother’s tape before heading back to the bunker.

Once home Sam went through the same routine of rousing his sick brother and getting him inside. Once safely down the winding stairs, Dean made a beeline for his bedroom. Sam followed behind to make sure he actually made it to his bed. Reaching Dean’s room he found his brother sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over and coughing roughly. Once it subsided Dean reach up slowly and removed the mask from his face and began to try and unlace his boots. Sam watched from the doorway as his brother struggled to unlace and remove his boots. Finally Dean gave up and simply laid backwards on his bed and surcummbing once again to his sickness. Snores quickly filled the room and Sam proceeded to kneel down and finish the task for him. Once the boots were off Sam maneuvered his sibling into a more proper sleeping position and covered him with some blankets. He would let Dean sleep “as is” for now, and worry about his clothes once he got back with the supplies. 

Dean slept almost straight on through until the following afternoon, waking periodically when Sam roused him. He cooperated as best he could, but got winded easily. Getting him into comfortable sleeping clothes was a two man job. He did his best to control his coughing while Sammy was around, but his cough was becoming more aggressive and harder for Dean to hold in. They had resorted to using the surgical mask again whenever Dean was awake. Not to mention his sinuses were also starting to torture him as well. That nasty sinus infection the nurse had alluded to was starting to dig his claws into Dean as well. He had a constant headache, his back teeth hurt and his sinuses felt like they were on fire. All Dean wanted to do was sleep this illness away, but the his symptoms had other plans. By the end of his first day of bedrest Dean was already using the nebulizer and inhaler. Sam filled him up with over the counter cold medicines, cough drops, and vapor rub to help control the symptoms enough for Dean to get more sleep. By the time his second day of bedrest came around Dean was utterly useless, broken and downtrodden. His cough tore at his chest, he was perpetually exhausted and his head felt 3 sizes too big. He had completely forgone the mask at this point since the sinus infection was relentless and he was now sneezing or blowing his nose as much as he was coughing. Sam did his best by making Dean various teas and bringing him any cold remedies he could find. He even brought Dean his favorite soup, but Dean could not bring himself to eat it. Sam finally offered Dean a bit of mercy and made him a double strength Hot Toddy. It did the trick and knocked him out for the rest of the night.

Sam was exhausted, taking care of Dean was wearing him out. This wasn’t like any other time Dean had gotten sick or been hurt. Where was the snark, where was the sarcastic comments? He was quiet and did everything Sam asked with zero complaints or backtalk. That just wasn’t like his brother and Sam was growing concerned. Times like this he really missed Bobby. Their Bobby, the man who took care of them both. Who listened to their grievances and worries about each other. The father they never had, but both desperately needed. Bobby would know the right thing to say or do, he always did. But like so many people in their lives, he’s gone now and they gotta figure things out for themselves. Sam slides his phone out of his pocket, hesitating before dialing. He truly did not know how Dean would feel about the decision he wants to make. He pushes the call button and waits to hear a familiar voice answer.

Present time frame

Dean was so tired of coughing, he was tired of sneezing, he was tired of feeling pathetic. He was beyond depressed at this point, never really having to stay in bed quite this long before. Especially for something so minor as a sinus infection and bronchitis. He had had a heart attack before and walked himself out of the hospital, he got t boned by a truck, a damn monster broke his leg and he still kept going. Dean laid in his bed, wallowing in his supposed weakness. Walking to the bathroom was such an immense chore for him and would leave him drained. His cough was near constant, unless he was using the nebulizer. His sinuses were so plugged up that even bringing the kleenex to his face to try and blow his nose was painful. His whole body was just so sensitive right now and he had never felt so breakable and delicate. He was truly worthless and it was eating away at him. Relief only came when Sam brought him another strong hot toddy, the only thing that could help him get any sleep, despite his exhausted state. Dean drank the warm tonic down as quickly as he could manage, desperate for sleep and escape from his torturous symptoms. The hot beverage did it’s trick and within a half hour he was sleeping.

A few hours later the effect of the toddy were beginning to wear off and Dean started to stir. Feeling the all too familiar feelings of built up pressure returning to his sinuses and chest eventually woke him all together in the most unpleasant way. He jolted awake by a flurry of painful sneezes that he muffled into his pillow. The sneezes kicked off an coughing fit that he struggled to recover from. Gasping for breath between coughs, he fumbled on his nightstand for either his inhaler or the nebulizer. Finding neither he began to panic as the coughs grew more aggressive.  
Then a voice broke thru the darkness,  
“Hello Dean”,  
and a strong arm snaked behind his back and pulled him forward into a sitting position. His inhaler was instantly in his hand, while the nebulizer was placed in his other. Blue eyes meet his and Dean quickly puffs on the inhaler, grateful for medicine within. After a few puffs Dean switches over the Nebulizer, the medication eased his aching lungs, soothing them to relax. The Angel in the dark still stood watch as the hunter gathers himself. A few minutes of silence hangs between them, both of them waiting for Deans cough to finally be manageable again. Slowly Dean lowers the nebulizers, waiting to see if the coughing returns. After another few minutes, he is satisfied that it is under control for now. Palming the inhaler, Dean keeps it close though. Just in case.

Finally he turns to acknowledge the trenchcoated figure in the room. In his time of distress he really did think about how vulnerable he was and how easily he would be to subdue right now. He is sick, weak, tired, and barely able to breath. An overwhelming amount of guilt, shame, self loathing, and worthlessness overtakes Dean and as he raises his eyes to meet Castiel’s he is overcome and he can’t hold back the feelings anymore.  
“Cas..” he choked out brokenly, but it got locked up in all the tears that now were flowing unhibitnated down the ailing man’s face. The Angel was there instantly, sitting behind Dean, holding him tightly against his chest. Dean sobbed uncontrollably into the trenchcoat, clenching the material in his hands. The illness had taken its toll not only on Dean’s physical health, but his emotional/mental state as well. He wept because he felt helpless, he wept, because he felt useless, he wept because he felt horrible and just wanted to be saved. He wanted to let it all go and just be taken care of. 

His cries quickly started working against him though. His nose was already so clogged up and he was doing all he could to hold back the coughs, but the full body wrecking tears weren’t helping either of those matters. He started to cough heavily and began to struggle to control it again. Castiel quickly maneuvered the hunter around, so his back was against the angels chest. He held him tsecurly, wrapping his strong arms around him tightly. He lifted the inhaler to Dean’s mouth and instructed him firmly to calm down, praising him as Dean took a couple pulls from the inhaler. After a few minutes Dean had composed himself again and sat up in the bed looking rather sheepish at his behavior. But Castiel pulled him back, covering him with blankets as he laid against the angel. Handing Dean the nebulizer again, Cas watched as he obediently breathed from the apparatus for about 10 minutes. After Dean handed it back off he Cas, he opened his mouth to speak. But the Angel simply placed his finger against the man's lips, signalling silence. They locked eyes as Castiel gently ran his hand over Dean’s swollen sinuses and up to his temples. Dean felt his headache ebb away and the fire within his sinuses finally cooled. His gaze then followed the trail Cas’s fingers made has they pressed against his bare chest. He felt warmth spread thru him and his started to nod off. His eyes sought out the Angel as his eyelids started to droop. The last thing he saw and felt felt was Castiel placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Sam made his way down the hallway, towards his brothers room. It had been quite a few hours since Castiel had arrived and he hadn't seen or heard the Seraph since he first went to see Dean. Pausing at the door, Sam listened for any sounds. But it was silent, which he found disturbing. Deciding it was in Dean’s best to check on him, Sam opened the door.  
Now he can never be totally sure what he saw, but he knows for certain he saw Castiel sitting up in his brother’s bed, back resting against the headboard, with a very comfortable and content looking Dean nestle in the Angle’s lap, firmly holding onto his trenchcoat. But what he thought he saw was the shadow of a pair of wartorn, ravaged black wings, wrapped as a secure cocoon around the sleeping man. At the sound of the door opening, Castiel looked up and met Sam’s gaze. Sam smiled, grateful for the angelic assistance, and closed the door. 

Dean would have one more day of bedrest before being allowed to get up and move around the bunker again. It would be another week before Sam and Cas let him drive Baby around town. And still another week after that before Sam agreed to a hunt.

 

This fic is based around a few different events. I wrote it because the other night I woke up in the middle of the night with this fic idea in my head, it was just the scene with Dean and Cas. I tried to go back to sleep but apparently someone felt I needed to get back into writing. I had a dream that I was laying in bed with my husband and he wanted me to tell him my fic. So I tried to tell him a story that I haven't written yet and mostly it was just us laughing and lying together.  
Dean’s illness and actions in the fic are heavily inspired by my husband. Many of Dean’s actions in this were exact things my husband did when he was sick. There were quite a few times in our marriage that he would get really sick and I would always take care of him. Sam and Cas are heavily influenced by myself. Taking care of him was something I really truly miss.  
I hope you enjoyed this fic, I chose to write it in a very simplistic style to get so that way when dialogue was finally used it was more impactful. Thanks for taking the time to read my fic and see another small facet of our marriage.


End file.
